Exhausted, with seemingly no where to run, she fell face first to the earth. Her body twitched, then fell still. Keyshi didn’t know if she were alive or dead. It did know the big, hairy male was standing some distance away listening for more sounds of her movement. But, there none to be heard.
Keyshi still didn’t know what was going on. It was clear enough that the male was chasing after the female. But, why? Although a young entity, Keyshi had already learned that there were three major reasons why one creature runs away from another. The first and most obvious reason was fear for one’s well-being. The next obvious reason was “just for fun,” a game, usually, but not always, reserved for the youngsters of a species.
The least obvious, although reportedly widely practiced, was something called fornication. Keyshi never did truly understood its dynamic. It seemed to refer to some act of causing pain while in the pursuit of pleasure. Although it was far too inexperienced in this arena to know for sure, of the three, this was certainly a strong possibility.
With so many confusing thoughts racing through Keyshi's consciousness, it had half a mind to return to the well and leave these two humans to their fate - be it pleasure or pain. Then it thought of Old Tonc's description of the female human in the city, lying in the gutter - dying!
"Blowblasters!” Keyshi cursed, realizing it sensed an obligation to do something. It decided to lead the hairy male to the fallen female, reasoning that if she was running in fear and was dead, he could do little more to harm her. On the other hand, if she was running for fun and wasn’t dead, he could save her. And if she was running for the third reason - well, Keyshi chose to not even consider the result.
Diving among the veget plants, Keyshi rustled through the dry leaves, causing them to simulate the sound the female had been making. Keyshi then rose into the air and spotted the hairy male heading toward the sound in hot pursuit. Keyshi couldn't help but notice his overt inability to maintain a straight course. At first he had headed straight for the sound, but before long, he had made a slight arch to the left, turning off course - something to which he seemed oblivious.
"Humans, humph!” Keyshi chided, “couldn't find their way out of a hollow log if it was open on both ends." Diving just a few feet to the side of Bourg, Keyshi rustled some more dry leaves. The human didn’t respond. Either he was ignoring them or he didn't hear them due to his own clumsy crunching through the plants. Keyshi made several more attempts to no avail, so it decided to wait for the him to stop, again, but he didn’t. He just kept on crashing through the dried plants, heading in every direction except the right one.
Finally, Keyshi realized it was going to have to try a new strategy. Racing about ten reeds ahead of the human, it laid in wait. Then, just as Bourg crashed through the veget stalks directly in front of it, Keyshi dipped down and scooped up a bowl's worth of sand and flung it in the hairy one's face. Bourg stumbled forward to a halt, hacking and spitting the dirt from his mouth.
"That's more like it,” Keyshi thought as it positioned itself slightly behind and to the right of him.
When the huge human finished cursing and brushing the fine grains of sand from his bushy eyebrows, Keyshi shook some more leaves. This time Bourg was quite attentive, for the sound was quite near, barely a row or two away. Slowly, he parted the veget stalks in front of him, as he quietly stepped toward the sound. Again, the leaves rustled just a couple of rows ahead. Again, he stepped forward.
Although he could see no one, he felt a strong life presence moving just in front of him among the stalks. Step by step, row by row, he followed the quiet, gentle rustling which could only have been made by the female - or so he thought. And so Keyshi was able to lead Bourg back to the clearing where she lay lifeless in the dirt.
Through the veget leaves just ahead, Bourg could make out the form of a young female lying on the furrowed soil forming the center of the clearing. Anger percolated throughout his entire being, until it found release in a long, low growl. Pentalope had warned him that this particular female was full of treacherous deceit. Bourg, of course, had no way of knowing what had happened upstairs. However, when he first saw her dash into the eating room her countenance was flush with fear - a fear only his Lord Mayor could instill in someone. Of that much he was certain. “Any enemy of the Lord Mayor is an enemy of yours, she had “reminded” him.
Bourg's anger boiled to rage. He wanted to destroy the female, to tear her into many tiny little pieces with his bare hands and scatter her remains among the rolling hills surrounding Nuttinnew. Wildly swinging his thick arms about, he ripped through the veget plants still separating him from his prey. The thick stalks snapped and crunched as Bourg forced his way through them.
Once in the clearing, his feet thundered upon the earth as he bore down on the still, reclining figure. Acutely aware of the imposing awesomeness of his approach, he fully expected the female to jump up and fearfully flee back into the field. Or, better still, to cower before him, frozen with frightful trembling. Either response would have kindled his fire of anger all the more, to which he would surely have reacted with the most primitive, bestial acts - as it is with any human who, out of righteous indignation, calls upon their most basic, destructive instincts to cleanse their world of "others" they perceive as tainted and unholy.
He was quite stunned, therefore, when the female lying on the ground before him remained motionless as he stood over her with savage intent, straddling her hips, prepared to perform the vilest acts of carnage. Fortunately, her stillness gave him pause - a moment for his humanity to breach his thoughts.
Hooking one foot beneath her hip bone, he roughly flipped her over onto her back. Then, reaching down, he clutched a tuft of her hair in his massive fist, as if to tear her head from her shoulders. However, thought-filled rage is not blind rage, and Bourg paused as he looked down through tear-blurred eyes at the smooth, pale face, that filled his being with a gentle familiarity, though he had no recollection of why it should.
The veget plants around the clearing suddenly began to whip about ferociously, causing the dry twigs to fill the air with a crackling sound, further distracting Bourg from the urgency of his anger. When the big male did look back at his prey, the female’s features began to find substance in his memory. He had seen these sublime features many times before, and had long held a desire to reach out and touch them - but there were the rumors. Just what these rumors were and who she was remained a mystery to him, little more than isolated remnants adrift without references in the midst of a clouded mind.
"Oh, no!” Keyshi shouted when it saw Bourg grab Mardrith by the hair. "What have I done? What have I done?” it agonized, not knowing what to do next. In angst, it circled about the clearing, causing the veget plants to whip and crackle. Although unplanned, the disturbance had brought Bourg out of his trance of rage.
Keyshi watched nervously as the big burly human wrapped his large thick arms around the unconscious female. At that point the little breeze could watch no more. It didn't know what was going to happen, but it was sure it didn't want to wait around to find out. Soaring high into the air Keyshi once again wished more than ever it had never wandered into the realm of humans. Even more, it wished it had never encountered that old winter windsack, Tonc.
"It’s no use! The more I try to help them, the more harm I cause,” Keyshi pouted. "Why, I've half a mind to leave this miserable place, right now!" it declared as it looked down upon the dozen or so males gathered about well. Some were vigorously pulling on ropes tied to the crankshaft posts, while others stood by dangling ropes into the well itself.
Keyshi remembered the human female it had last seen in the well. She should have been drawn out by now, but if so, why wasn’t she by the well with the Gatekeeper’s Key? Was it possible she was still down there? Had the Gatekeeper discovered her and her cargo? Had it done something horrible to her? All these unknowns piqued Keyshi’s curiosity and flooded its newly discovered emotional center. "Oh, baby bomb blasters!" it cursed and dov
e into the well past the struggling humans.
***** ***** *****
To the side of the clearing, in a small patch of shade, Bourg gently laid Mardrith’s limp body on a pile of fallen veget leaves. Then he removed a damp cloth from a pouch on his belt and placed it to her lips. Considering the event that had brought her to this condition, the expression on her face appeared quite tranquil, as she began to lap at the moisture.
Bourg leaned back with a start. He was sure she’d be frightened again if she suddenly popped open her eyes, filling her vision with his gruff face. However, despite her leisure oral activity, her eyes remained closed. Carefully, he brushed dried leaves over her as a cot cover, then slowly rose to his feet.
How did he know this female? Why didn’t he distrust and hate her like the Lord Mayor had said he should? Bourg's mind was a haze of confusion. He knew it was his loyal duty to destroy this traitor. It’s what the mayor would have wanted. Of this he had no doubts. Yet, something within him felt pity - no, more. He felt compassion for this fallen female, and somehow he knew this wasn’t a new feeling. Grabbing up an assortment of broken veget stalks, he created a make shift shelter to protect her from the blistering rays of the noonday sun. For the time being, he would leave her where she lay, until he could sort it all out in his mind. Besides, if it were necessary, he could always seek her out and destroy her later - another of the few things of which he was sure.
***** ***** *****
Much had happened since Keyshi last left the well. The Hooded One had appeared from out of nowhere, appraised the situation, then disappeared just as mysteriously. Moments later, a dozen males of the eastern rebellion, led by Joudlier, converged upon the well. Immediately they began to secure several ropes to the well’s crankshaft assembly, which Loden feared would collapse under the strain. Other ropes were quickly lowered into the well, itself, in hopes the young wellwalker was still alive and would be able to get away from whatever was keeping her down there.
At first Brindle was startled by the additional ropes descending upon her, but she quickly comprehended their purpose and tied two about her waist, one tightly, the other loosely. Another, she tied around the cracked well seat. A fourth, she managed to loop about the strange piece to keep it from falling while she slipped it from her neck and used Loden’s cord to tied it to one end of the well seat. A fifth rope she let dangle freely to use as an alternative signaling device.
When Loden’s fellow rebels first arrived at the well, he immediately began shouting orders which Joudlier made sure were carried out. Once the orders were accomplished, Joudlier stepped to the eastern crank handle to which Loden still held fast.
"I’ll take it, sir,” Joudlier offered, grabbing onto the crank handle.
"No, that's alright. I think it would be better if you relieved the caretender so he can care for his patients. Wudrick’s injured his hand quite severely."
Joudlier slowly released his grip on the handle returning all of the burden to Loden. Then he stepped a step away, but stopped and turning back toward Loden spoke softly as if to convey to him a secret to be kept from the others.
"I - er - forgot to mention, that crazy Hooded One told me to have Woodhead, there, taken back to your hut. Imagine that? The gall! Something strange about that fellow. He....”
"Alright, see to it!” Loden interrupted.
"What?" Joudlier couldn't believe his ears.
"Just do it - now! Send Ploiyt to assist him if he....” Loden halted and looked at Wudrick who was sitting next to the ill wellwalker. His face was pale, as he cradled his crushed hand in his lap, much like a mother cradles her newly born. "Send Shlay, too. Have them carry him to my hut and put him on my own sleeping cot. And see to it they put a fresh cup of veget juice on the night table.”
"But, sir,” Joudlier protested, “taking the enemy right into the leader’s sleeping cot. Like sleeping with the enemy! What’ll the other rebels...?”
"Do it! Just do it - without explanation. Is that too much for me to ask? Must you always argue with me?” Loden burst forth in frustration.
"I - I - yes, sir!” Joudlier was caught off guard by Loden’s stern outburst. So much so, his pride was deeply bruised. “Don't think it's right,” he muttered under his breath as he walked away, not realizing he was still within hearing range.
"Your objection is noted,” Loden growled.
"Humph!” Joudlier snorted, then commanded the two designated rebels to carry out the orders, as soon as the caretender was finished with him. However, he took it upon himself to expand Loden’s directive and ordered the two to stay and watch the hut. After all, this fellow was the husband of the enemy. They were to report any suspicious behaviors by the western infiltrator directly to him. Having set things into motion, Joudlier took over the well crank handle from CB.
"Alright, slowly now," Loden commanded those dangling their ropes in the well. "Pull up a little on them. That’s it. Is there any resistance? All but one? Really? Good. The wellwalker must have understood my intent. Okay, easy now, all together begin to pull up all the ropes, evenly, on all sides. Okay, pull, that's it, hand over hand, slowly, slowly, now. Easy!”
The well crank assembly creaked and bowed downward. Groans and grunts filled the air. "By Veget!" the rebels cursed. "Are we trying to lift the very ground we’re standing on?”
"What’s down there?” grunted Joudlier, as he struggled to turn the crank handle.
"The young female wellwalker,” Loden puffed back.
"No puff cake, that's for sure. Seen her put up a pretty good fuss before. Why doesn't she want to come out of there, anyway?"
"I don't think she....”
"Hey! Hey! What's going on here? Aack! It’s got me! Help!" All eyes turned toward Dampy who was thrashing about on the ground. One of the ropes which had been lowered into the well had gotten coiled around his ankle and was jerking his leg high into the air as if attempting to pull him into the well.
"Hold tight! Hold tight!” Joudlier hollered as he reached inside his pullover and pulled out a sharp veget knife.
"To what?” Dampy whined back. Joudlier raised the knife above his head and was about to slash the rope about his little buddy's foot.
"Wait! Wait!” Loden shouted.
"Don't wait! Help me!” Dampy cried, as the rope continued to tug at his foot.
"I'll help!” Joudlier shouted again.
"No, wait!” Loden ordered. "Look! Look at his leg."
"About to be swallowed up!” Joudlier shouted back in frustration as his arm swung forward and sliced the rope which quickly disappeared into the belly of the black well.
"No!” Loden moaned. "I think the wellwalker was trying to signal us."
"With Dampy's leg?” Joudlier retorted.
"With the rope wrapped around it,” Loden cried in exasperation.
"Whoa. Whoa. It’s coming up. Oh, by Veget, its coming up,” cried the two males who were holding the surface ends of the ropes, which unknown to them were tied around Brindle’s waist and the well seat.
"Pull, pull her up!” Loden shouted.
"Oh me. Oh, my,” the two males moaned as they reluctantly pulled on the ropes, knowing that whatever was on the other end was getting closer. After Dampy's experience, no one was sure if they wanted to bring up anything from the bowels of the well.
Loden tugged hard on the well crank handle. It barely turned under the strain. Still, the two males on the other rope seemed to have little resistance. Loden looked deep into the blackness of the well. His eyes followed the descending rope back to where it disappeared in the cold, bleakness. He could see nothing. No, wait! There was something - maybe? No. Yes.
"Pull! Pull!" he ordered again. "It’s the wellwalker! It is the wellwalker! Quickly, quickly, pull her out! Get her out of there!" He was jubilant. The others were relieved, just to know the thing at the end of their lines was human and not Underearthian.
Brindle felt the rope tighten about her waist as she was slowly lifted from the cr
acked well seat. Then the loosely tied rope slipped slightly and pressed against her rib cage. She felt as though she was being torn in two. Both ropes burned as they scraped and pulled her tender skin beneath her pullover. She tried to pull herself up with her arms to relieve the pain, but didn’t have the strength. As a last resort she kicked her legs high into the air over her head to hook her ankles around the rope. It took several attempts before she made it.
The upside down position caused the rope pressing against her ribs to slide to her hips which was not nearly as painful. Unfortunately, the fullness of her pullover fell down over her head and left her naked to the waist. It was not a sight she desired others to see, but it was the view they would get, for she was bound and determined to hang in this position until she could feel the warmth of the noonday sun on the bottoms of her feet.
Immediately, a warmth embraced her feet, flowed down her bare legs and teased the hairs of her vortex.
"Hey, stop that!" she demanded.
"Stop what?" came a familiar voice.
"Stop touching me - there!" she ordered.
"How am I supposed to enter the well without touching you? You've pretty well plugged the entire hole. Besides what are you doing? This is no time for games. And where is the Key?”
"If you mean that piece from the well, it’s down there, tied to the well seat. The blasted thing’s been trying to pull me down. And it’s likely to succeed. It’s become as heavy as the world itself.”
"What do you mean?” Keyshi questioned as it came down through Brindle's pullover and circled her face.
"I mean - hey, get out of my face. It’s hard enough to breathe under here as it is."
"Oh, sorry,” Keyshi apologized. "I'll fix that." Then with a swirl of a small portion of its being, Keyshi formed a circular wind current that drew up fresh, cool air from the well and vented out Brindle's exhalations.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 40